


Good, Clean Fun

by MirandaShepard_93



Series: Good, Clean Fun (NihlusXShepard) [1]
Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Biotic Shepard (Mass Effect), F/M, Implied Massacre, Implied Violence, Implied Xenophilia, Sexual Tension, Size Difference, Size Kink, Turian/Human, Xenophobia, and a size kink, and so does nihlus, shepard has an authority kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:08:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23409589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MirandaShepard_93/pseuds/MirandaShepard_93
Summary: Shepard and Nihlus are on a training mission together, but there's tension in the air. They don't understand each other, not really, but when they do...***This was meant to be a one-shot PWP, but its grown legs get ready for the second in the series- I've tried to be ambiguous about many details of who Shepard is and what she looks like, here, so that you can slot in your own Shepard as you wish ***
Relationships: Nihlus Kryik/Female Shepard
Series: Good, Clean Fun (NihlusXShepard) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1683943
Comments: 7
Kudos: 40





	Good, Clean Fun

He was tall. Too tall. Shepard had to take two steps for each one of his; she had known that Turians were tall, generally speaking, and had found herself arguing upwards on more than one occasion since becoming an officer in the Alliance. Of course, it didn't help that she was shorter than average herself. Pursing her lips, Shepard scrambled up the hill behind him, eyes on his broad back, 

"This is a, what do you humans say, a pie walk?"

"Cake."

"What?"

"It's a cakewalk, sir," she said with a smile,

"Whatever... and don't call me sir," Nihlus said, shaking his head, "it's an easy mission is what I'm saying, a handful of Batarian slavers."

_A handful?_

"Forty, sir,"

"What?"

"There are forty slavers."

"Yes, not many. We can handle this, Shepard. As long as you stay focussed and follow my lead." 

"Yes, sir."

"And stop calling me sir."

"Ok." She bit down on the word, sniggering a little as he rolled his eyes and muttered something under his breath before setting off down the hill. 

The interior walls of the compound were pockmarked with bullet holes. Shepard touched one gently, the backdrop for a firing squad, it seemed... if the number of craters were anything to go by,

"Sir?" She said, and Nihlus hissed - partly because of her insistence in the honorific, and partly because she broke radio silence. It was hard not to call him that, in truth; he carried himself with an air of cool authority that made it hard not to. The rumble of his vocals made her shiver. He turned, visor gleaming in the sunlight, "I've never known slavers to execute en masse... have you?" The question stilled his irritation. Nihlus moved to her side and touched the bullet holes, 

"No," he said softly, "stay sharp... something else is going on here."

Inside the squat, ugly building there was a sickly sweet smell that seeped in through her helmets air filters, making the eerie silence all the more unnerving. _We should have seen someone by now... anyone._ There wasn't even a sentry, but Nihlus stayed sharp, checking every room, always ready for a surprise attack, and she followed his lead. In the middle of a long, low dining room, Nihlus stopped and took his helmet off, 

"There's no-one here, something..." he trailed off and raised his head as if scenting the air. Shepard shivered. Turians had a way of being so relatable, so... 'human', that you forgot how alien they were until moments like this. It was almost predatory, something unrecognisable slithered through the pit of her stomach, making her thighs ache, "something isn't right, Shepard. Do you smell that?"

She didn't have to take her helmet off to confirm it, but she did anyway. 

"Rot," she says, "it smells like infection. Human infection, anyway."

"Human infection?"

"Wounds, gone bad," she said, and he nodded, making a small 'ah' sound, "I know that smell." A sickness settled in her stomach; the kind of sick expectation that had come before that terrible, awful mission. Before the deaths. They walked side by side through the mess hall in silence and followed the corridors that looped and intertwined but all seemed to lead to one place. A huge, cavernous basement filled with beds and medical equipment. The plastic sheets and flickering lights didn't obscure the horror, but rather amplified it. Shepards' blood ran cold, 

"Experiments," she said, _bastards. Filthy Batar-_ she bit down on the thought hard enough to crack bone and swallowed. The tears that welled stung and the sudden urge to run to Nihlus and hide behind him shook her to the core, shaming and surprising her in equal measures. She turned to him, aghast, but his face was blank and unreadable. Alien. 

"Let's see what kind," Nihlus said without a sign of distress or upset. The words were a knife in her gut, twisting. Shepard swallowed the hard lump of grief and anger blocking her throat. _Then again, these are human bodies._ Every single one. Human to the last; Batarians held grudges like Asari and sought revenge like Salarians. Nihlus flicked through the files of a nearby computer, 

"Not encrypted?"

"No, but none of the data is left. Just the basics of the project, its aims, et cetera."

"They were making a point," she said, spitting the words as if each was a venomous barb, 

"Yes, letting us know that there's a traitor in our midst..." he sighed, "someone in the informant chain let us down, Shepard. Let's take what we can and go."

For the first time in the months they had been working together, Shepard hated Nihlus. He strolled out of the compound and called in a clean-up crew as if it was just another day. _There were children in there._ When they reached the ship he called her to his office and started running through the process of report writing and submission, as if she hadn't done it a thousand times as an Alliance officer, 

"I'm aware of how to write a report, sir." The words were hard, clipped. Nihlus tilted his head and leaned back, not even bothering to correct her, 

"Of course you are. Do we have a problem, Shepard?" He asked, and she fought the urge to wince. He was direct, of course he was. All Turians were, in her experience. It was a delight, usually, but she was out of line, now. 

"No, sir."

"I think we do," he said, "and I've told you not to call me that."

"Yes, sir." She said it to spite him, but the low growl was enough to make her regret it. When she looked up he was on his feet, hands planted on either arm of her chair, 

"Do you want to explain what the fuck your problem is?" He asked, eyes dangerously narrow. Shepard shrunk back, despite herself, 

"How can you be so calm?" She asked, words cracking, "there were _children_ in there, Nihlus. Babies, barely five years old how can you-"

"It's our job to stay calm Shepard, detached, you should know this better than-"

"Say that when it's Turian children on the butchers block," Shepard snapped, slapping his hands away to stand, "you'd care a hell of a lot more if it had been!" 

Nihlus looked at the finger in front of his face then back at her, 

"Come with me."

"No," she crossed, her arms

"Now, Commander." And he was gone, leaving her no option but to follow him again. This time to the training room. The fact that Turian ships had a dedicated area for sparring was something that had seemed strange, at first, but now made sense. The intense requirement for polite interaction in Turian society was admirable but jelled poorly with the aggression that 200 to 400 soldiers in a confined space can breed. Sparring was a healthy outlet, 

"Out," Nihlus barked at the few soldiers who were already training. He locked the door behind them and deactivated the cameras with a wave of his omni-tool. "So..." he said, drawing in a breath, "do you want to tell me where this... hysteria is coming from?"

"Hysteria?" Shepard barked. The anger was like acid, eating away at her insides. _Well, we are in a training room._ The crackle of electricity and faint blue glow that preceded the wave of biotic power was his only warning, but Nihlus leapt out of the way, almost, with fluid grace. Caught by the tail end of the shockwave he staggered and rolled before getting back to his feet, 

"I see," he said brushing himself off, "if we're going to fight, Shepard, lets keep it non-lethal... just, what is it you humans say - good, clean fun?"

"Fun?" Shepard shook her head, "how can you think like that? After what we saw down there? After-" it was an open-handed slap, not intended to cause real pain or injury. It was, in short, an insult designed to stoke her already burning anger, 

"Stop whining like a child," he said it with cool detachment, "and hit me."

_I hate you, I hate you -_

He dodged the first punch as if it was moving in slow motion. The second connected poorly, her wrist rolling, and he took advantage of it. In one, fluid motion he sunk his fist into her gut. Shepard reeled across the room, bouncing off of a crate. On the way back she dropped low, skidding towards him before pushing up to kick at his hip. The crunch made him stagger, but Nihlus stayed on his feet and reached down to grab her collar, lifting her to eye level. The disdain on his face was almost palpable, so clear that she could have been reading it from a human face. For a moment the world shifted and the ridiculousness of the situation took her breath away, then he scoffed, 

"This is a poor display, even for a human." There was an undertone of venom that she had never heard in his voice, something that didn't fit, a small voice in her head was screaming reason, but it was a louder one that took control and screamed for real. The biotic blast sent them spinning to opposite corners of the room. Shielded by her barrier, Shepard thudded lightly against the wall; Nihlus was not so lucky, taking down a row of crates before coming to a painful stop. Shepard stood and ran to him, not sure if she was going to help or hurt him until she was dropping to her knees, 

"Nihlus, are you -" His hand was like iron on her throat, and when he stood he took her with him, 

"You could have killed us both, you _stupid little girl._ " His eyes flashed with the kind of anger that she couldn't remember ever seeing on his face, 

"I-"

"This... childish display is beneath you, Shepard."

"Nihlus-"

"Sir," he barked, "you _will_ call me sir... after all, you've been very good at it so far." There it was again, that damn shiver of... something. This time, however, Nihlus jerked, as if he felt it too. His eyes travelled her in one smooth motion and he laughed, the sound crawling under her clothes, making her feel naked, "I never took you for a xenophile, Shepard."

"What - are you -talking about?" She clawed at her arm, trying to relieve the pressure on her throat, but as he pulled her closer and growled, drawing in a breath, she closed her eyes as it dawned on her just what he meant. _Oh no._ Her body, traitor that it was, hummed and throbbed when he spoke,

"Are you really too dense to understand your own tantrum, Shepard?" He asked it as if he actually cared about the answer, then ran a hand down the side of her body, like a man appraising a horse, making her shudder and gasp, "Or are you being coy?"

"It's not a tantrum," she growled, "you're a monster." A look of hurt flashed across his face before it went blank once again, and something wicked flashed a silver fin in the depths of his eyes. 

"A monster," he murmured, low and intimate, "then what does that make you?" His hand trailed up her leg slowly, then slid between them suddenly, squeezing. Shepard bit down on the moan that threatened to take her by surprise. "Hmm? Answer your superior officer, Commander."

"Nihlus-" she gasped when the hand tightened and his eyes narrowed, "sir... put me down."

"No." He said it mildly, as if holding up 160lbs of struggling human was no strain. "No, I like having you at eye-level..." his eyes softened suddenly, "I'm not heartless, Shepard." The hand slipped away from her crotch, and she whined. Nihlus froze, mandibles twitching in surprise. He recovered admirably, like a Spectre in fact. "What we saw down there was horrific, but whether the bodies are human or krogan, young or old, it's our job to stay detached. It's not easy, but it is necessary. Do you understand?" She nodded, aware of the tears starting to leak down her face, and he placed her on the ground, hand slipping to her shoulder, "you wanted me to comfort you down there, Shepard, but that's not my job. I'm here to teach you, not be your friend." She nodded, unable to trust her words, barely able to meet the clear, grey eyes that sought hers. Something was lying between them, something that sparked and crackled. That word, _xenophile,_ echoed in her head, "but we are on the same side." 

"I... yes, sir," she let her head drop, and he hissed, 

"Please, don't call me that."

The tremble in his voice, the desperation, and the lingering feel of his hand, still making her crotch throb, came together with that word in a sudden burst of understanding. Shepard's head snapped up and her eyes found his again. Time seemed to slow between them, and the choices between cruelty and kindness, feigned ignorance and open understanding became tangled beyond belief. She was a soldier, at heart, however, and a woman. Her inner jarhead fought with the breathless girl, and then came to a compromise,

"But you were so insisted earlier, sir," she said, eyes wide, voice high. The one thing she had learned from the... several _niche_ vids she had watched was that Turian men supposedly fell into two camps; those who liked to be challenged, and those who liked to hunt. She couldn't challenge Nihlus if she tried; not without actually meaning to injure or kill him. _Am I really doing this?_ A tiny voice in her head, shrill and panicked, whimpered as the wincing shame on his face turned to intense concentration, and then, slowly, understanding. He stepped forward, hand reaching for her, as the training room door buzzed, beeped, and opened. His hand dropped away as the captain of the ship stepped into the room, 

"Everything alright?" Her voice was guarded, mandibles clamped tightly to her face as he surveyed the damage, 

"Fine, Captain, my apologies," Nihlus spoke smoothly, but the captains' eyes wandered to her, her mandibles quivering as her nose twitched. Shepard fought the urge to look away, _if he could smell it..._ "we were sparring. The mission was...upsetting and we had things to talk about, differences to address."

"Of course." The amused contempt in her voice was like a dagger, but Nihlus met her eye coolly, 

"May we proceed, or do you wish to observe?" He asked, and she recoiled as if stung, 

"Carry on, Spectre." The doors slid closed behind her, locking again, and Shepard felt the enormity of their isolation, and the weight of his attention on her. As the anger cooled the shivering, tense feeling in her thighs and gut made Shepard tremble. Resentment followed soon after. Who was he to make her feel this way? 

"I... don't need to... I want to shower and reflect, sir." She kept her eyes on the ground as the weight of his gaze settled on her, 

"Very well," Nihlus said, voice quiet and controlled, "dismissed."


End file.
